Misplaced Modesty
by Isha-No-Aikousha
Summary: The Doctor and Martha go in search of the best entertainment in the universe and find a mystery instead. Do not distort the title... ah, bet you just did.
1. Chapter 1

-1Disclaimer: BBC owns the world, and any who resist will be exterminated. Not like that'll stop me though.

"So you're telling me there are creatures out there live entirely off rocks?" Martha asked.

The Doctor nodded, preoccupied with adjusting a circuit board with his sonic. "What's so strange about that? It's a more direct method than eating vegetables and animals. Less wasteful too." He added, targeting the sonic at a different group of circuits.

The TARDIS hung suspended in time and space. The engines hummed, beat, and filled the ship with a calming white noise. The Doctor hadn't yet decided where they were going next, but certainly didn't want to stay where they had been. Who knew that in some cultures, a banana is sacred and eating one a sin?

Martha stood shaking her head. "Maybe so, but I still think it's odd." She grinned. "Or would you like to join me in a bowl of mud and shale tonight?"

The Doctor's eyebrows rose. "They don't just eat anything you know. Has to be specific minerals, chemical and physical patterns. Emeralds, diamonds, rubies. Quartz, if they're in a fix with nothing proper to eat."

Martha stared in disbelief. "So where are we going now?" She asked.

"Up to you. I chose last time." He said, allowing her to change the topic.

"Yeah," Martha laughed, "and look how that turned out."

The Doctor turned, glancing over his glasses at her. "I'm sorry about that." He said flatly, turning his back to her again.

Martha was taken aback by his response. "I was just joking you know. No way you could know they'd find bananas sacred! I mean, I would have done the same thing." He didn't respond. She waited a beat, two, for him to respond. Nothing but the hum of his screwdriver.

"Oi." She goaded. "Joke. Didn't mean to upset you."

The Doctor stood up, stretched, and paused comically halfway through. "Martha Jones, you've given me a wonderful idea!" He bounded over to the controls, and began methodically spinning dials, pulling levers, and occasionally holding down random buttons with his feet, all the while smiling. The TARDIS began to shake as it spun through the vortex. "The most famous and brilliant comedy can be found at the height of the Amehan Empire. Intergalactic culture had fused to create the most remarkable comics the galaxy had ever seen, and there you lot were in the middle of it, borrowing from every race to create jokes that last for trillions of years."

"So we're going to a comedy club?" She laughed, bracing herself against the railing as the TARDIS shuddered violently.

"Well, seeing how well taking you to the theater worked," The Doctor grinned, "perhaps something lighter would be in order."

"As if that were my fault!" Martha protested.

"Oh I don't know. Weren't any witches there until I took you. Coincidence?" He inquired, looking at her over the console he was clutching.

"You're right. I'm actually a Carionite. Sorry for not letting you know sooner." She shot back. "And what about you? Have you figured out what you've done to Queen Elizabeth yet?"

"Nope, and that's half the fun, isn't it?" He asked, standing up. The TARDIS began to shake less and less - quickly it was still and silent. "Shall we?" The Doctor asked as he bounded for the door.

"The capitol of the Amehan Empire, Eaipolis." The Doctor announced proudly as they walked out. "Well... 5th of a total of 12, actually, but..." He trailed off. Martha stood at the edge of a massive cliff, leading thousands of feet down to a swift moving river. The system of giant canyons created by interconnecting rivers looked like the veins upon a leaf set upon an impossible scale of hundreds of square miles, as far as Martha's eyes could see. Set into the cliffs were many shafts, along with large solar arrays. Ventilation systems, perhaps lighting too, she guessed. The sky was brilliant shade of green, the color of new leaves in spring.

"So they live within these cliffs?" She asked.

"Well, the Amehan have never believed in building on top of the ground, you see. Much to do with their relation to moles, I suppose. Well, not moles, but certainly creatures that look and act like them" This city sat deep in the ground for centuries before a climate shift caused the rivers to flow here, but they never moved. They dug deeper in the ground, always seeking to keep up with the river's erosion."

"Why didn't they -"

"Just move the river?" The Doctor finished, walking to stand along side her. "It violates what they hold to be sacred. They believe that the only place their race has dominion is in the ground, tunneling. Which, and this is strange, is how they came to use a very unique form of transportation involving wormholes. To them it's all the same, just burrowing about."

The wind swept violently along the cliffs, and Martha crossed her arms to keep her jacket in place. The Doctor stood nonchalantly a few feet to her side, hands in pockets with his trench coat whipping and snapping in the wind. Despite the sun's warmth, the wind was bitterly cold. Still, they stood admiring the city, the many layers of rock exposed to show the planet's history, for quite some time. At least, it felt like quite some time to Martha. She was freezing. The Doctor, however, was lost in his own world. To burrow through matter and space, to create an intergalactic empire based upon instantaneous travel via worm hole, was remarkable. If only they'd been able to burrow through time, as his people had, he thought sadly. They might not have met their end at the hands of the Sontarians in only a few thousand years. He stood silently, remembering how the city would look - a crater that spanned an impossible distance, the mesa city of Eaipolis crumbled to dust. Still later it would become a lake... a watery grave and memorial for the race that died here. The sun had turned red, he reminisced, by that time. Shaking his head to rouse himself, he looked over at Martha who hung to her jacket, her knuckles white.

"Shall we head in?" He asked casually, oblivious to her discomfort.

"P-p-please." Martha responded through gritted teeth.

The Doctor and Martha walked together to a large concrete slab, dotted with lights and dishes to help guide in ships. The TARDIS sat upon it, and past it was a small hatch, barely large enough for the Doctor to fit into once he'd undone the locking mechanism holding it in place. Martha watched as he climbed down, the dark hiding him totally from her sight.

"Well come' on then! Haven't got all day!" He called up to her. Martha began to carefully climb down, and was pleased to discover the air becoming warmer. Despite that, it tasted clean, fresh. Finally, her feet touched the ground, and she hopped off the ladder. The Doctor stood a few feet away, pointing the sonic at his glasses, working intently. He inspected his work quickly, and put them on, squinting up at the open hatch above them.

"Right! Can't leave the front door open." He said, pointing the sonic upwards. The hatch slammed shut, and they were left in total darkness. Martha panicked, reaching quickly for the ladder but realizing then she should have reached for him. Perhaps his people could see in the dark.

"Doctor?" She called out.

"I'm right here." He said, holding his sonic like a torch. The darkness enveloped everything. Martha couldn't see anything past the half of his face illuminated by the pale blue light, and his hand gripping the instrument.

"Can you turn the lights on or something?" Martha asked, searching with her free hand for his, which she had assumed he had extended while holding on to the ladder.

"Remember when I told you the Amehans were like moles?" He asked, still holding the sonic up but making adjustments with his other hand. Martha let her arm drop along side her, but still kept her grip on the ladder.

"Yeah," She said, realization spreading across her consciousness, "Moles have terrible vision in daylight."

"Yup, and so do the Amehans. In fact, they actually raise their young in pitch blackness for the first 5 years of their lives. Believe it reinforces what's actually important, or rather, what's not. Now what's really, and I mean really, interesting about all -"

"So do they have lights, or is the entire city dark?" Martha interrupted.

"Aside from some special places set up for" He paused, sounding disdainful, "tourists, yes. Pitch black."

"So what are we going to do?" She asked.

"Well I've used the sonic to make my glasses perceptive to heat. Actually a neat trick, but unfortunately, I only have one pair, and that won't do." He shook his head, thinking. "Unless...", he said, looking at her, eyebrow arched.

Martha met his gaze, although she wasn't sure he could see her without his glasses on as the light the sonic was producing was weak. "What." She said flatly. "No, you know what? Just get it over with."

"Martha, I need you to hold every still, and keep your eyes open. No matter what happens, keep them open and look right in front of you, OK?" He put on his glasses, winced, and turned off the sonic. She looked ahead, seeing nothing but pitch blackness now. She heard him move closer.

"Here we go. Keep looking straight ahead." The Doctor said.

"Ah!" The light of the sonic felt as though it had pierced through her skull. The light was so intense it flooded her consciousness. She couldn't think, or feel. All she could do was see the light, burning her eyes and mind.

"Hold still!" He said irritably, one hand held up in anticipation of the need to hold her head still. "Just a little more... and there!" He turned off the sonic and placed it back in his breast pocket as Martha sunk to the ground, he hands over her eyes.

"What did you do that for?" She yelped, holding her hands over her eyes. "Is that some sort of Time Lord practical joke? If you slept I'd get you back for this... blinding me as if I weren't blind enough already in the dark..."

"Open your eyes." He murmured quietly.

Martha did, and she saw him, crouched beside her, one arm resting on his knee. His torso was a mix of reds and golds, while his hearts were bright white, spreading lanes of brighter light throughout him. His eyes glowed intensely, a luminous gold. She put her hand to her face in disbelief. The warm blood pumped through her veins, it's warm branching outwards, cooling as it went, changing from red to darker and darker shades until it reached the tips of her fingers.

"Infrared vision." She stammered. She could see in the dark. See heat instead of light.

"I'm sorry Martha, I really am, but I can't do the same thing to my eyes, so I have to use my glasses, so I just figured..." He trailed off. "We can just leave, if you want. I'll change them back."

"No, no, it's amazing!" She said, standing up. "This is just amazing..."

"It'll take a few minutes, maybe up to an hour, but soon you'll have the same visual acuity you had when you saw with light - more or less, anyway. Might be a little fuzzy, but that can't be helped. Still, it'll be better than globs of light moving about, what you see now. Just takes the brain a little while to accept the rewiring."

Martha's head snapped up from looking at her foot, which incidentally had a fascinating system of blood vessels. "Rewiring?" She asked, feeling anger bringing to well up in her stomach.

"Well it's not as though you can see in the dark naturally, you know, so along with changing the receptors in your eyes you have to change the way the brain interprets the data. Might give you a headache, actually." He said quickly, looking down. "But only a mild one." He added hopefully.

Martha was about to snap at him for 'rewiring' her brain without her permission, but it was then that she realized the Doctor was right. Her visual acuity had started to come back. The Doctor was no longer just a shape made of light. His features had returned, and she could see his glasses on his face, his hair. Still a bit blurry though, she thought, and his eyes still burned gold.

"I can see the veins in my hands, " She mused. "It's like a living anatomy book."

"You know, they have those, actually..." He paused. "Wait. You can what?" He asked quizzically, running his hand through his hair, leaving odd trails of orange heat. Like terrible highlights, she though, very amused.

"I can see my veins... here, look, I'll show you." She said, as she traced their paths from her shoulder to her arm.

"Now that is impressive. I've never seen a human pick up so quickly!" He beamed.

"Can I ask you a question though?"

"The eyes. Its my eyes, isn't it. Right?" The Doctor asked, seemingly unsurprised at the question. "It's due to the naturally higher body temperature I keep, combined with the structure and heat absorbing properties of my bones." He paused, looking at her.

"So you've got a thick head, is what you're saying." Martha deadpanned.

The Doctor grinned. "Not thick enough to keep me from being brilliant!" He looked at her, his demeanor shifting quickly. "I know what it looks like though. If it reminds me, it certainly reminds you."

She did remember, even if she tried to push the memory away. That one glimpse of the fury of a sun in his eyes was worse than anything she'd experienced with him. Worse than guiding John Smith back to his true identity, worse than the Daleks. The realization that someone like him had been taken over, could be taken over, completely by a creature so angry and so vengeful frightened her to the core. She remembered his words. "Burn with me, Martha.", He'd growled.

It really didn't help that the Doctor was watching her. The light from his eyes was oddly contained by his glasses, bleeding out along the edges. It's not the same, she reminded herself. It's not. He's still himself.

"Is it going to be a problem?" He asked quietly. No answer.

Martha finally spoke. "No. It's not going to be a problem." She said, more an affirmation for herself than an answer for him.

The Doctor gave her his best smile. "Brilliant. Shall we be off then? The best comedy in the universe awaits us." He said, gesturing down the narrow hall.

They headed down, through a labyrinth of corridors, always heading deeper into the earth. It was hard to Martha to imagine that just a few feet outside were massive cliffs leading thousands of feet down. To her it felt as though she was halfway to the center of the planet. The air remained fresh despite the depths, impressing Martha very much. The Doctor walked briskly, clearly familiar with the paths leading down into the city. Martha followed along behind, tracing the power conduits that glowed inches below the surface of the walls with her fingers. She was still adjusting to her new vision, but clearly enjoying it. Deeper and deeper they walked, and soon other tunnels began to converge with theirs and the tunnel broadened, so that she could walk along side the Doctor again. They proceeded together in silence, the Doctor lost in his thoughts and Martha with the now emerging spider web of venting and power conduits along the path. It was almost like Christmas lights, setting the tunnel aglow. Finally the tunnel stopped at a great door, easily large enough to fit two double deck busses though. The conduits flowed past, into what appeared to be a great space beyond.

"Right, so here we are then." The Doctor said, smiling. "Tell me, what can you see?"

Martha paused. "I can see the piping going past the door, and spreading out. It must be a huge space beyond here."

The Doctor looked at her approvingly. "Good." He said simply. "What else?" He asked quietly.

"I can see... it's like insects. Fireflies. They're so faint." She said. "There must be hundreds." Her voice became quiet. "No, thousands. Tens of thousands." The Doctor watched her intently as she spoke, and it almost seemed as if she could feel the heat radiating from his eyes. She didn't look at him, but rather stared straight ahead.

"What are they?" He asked.

Martha stood in shocked silence. People. Amehans. All the small glows moving about past the door, below and above her, were the citizens of the city. The more she focused, the deeper she could see. Millions of lights.

The Doctor stepped closer. "Tell me what they look like. That one," He whispered, pointing. "Right there."

She took a deep breath, and focused on the light. It was stationary, unlike the millions of others. She let it become all she saw, and slowly it took shape.

"It's small... only a meter, meter and a half." She began. "It's legs are like a dogs, but it walks upright. It's arms are long, and it's hands have only..." She strained to see. "...only 3 fingers, but with claws."

"And?"

"It's hunched over, but not reaching for anything. Must be the way it's supposed to be." She concluded. "It's face... they eyes, they sit on the sides. They're small, but it's nose is huge. So is it's mouth."

She was so lost in the sight of the city all around her and the Amehan she'd been observing that she involuntarily jumped back with shock when the great gates began to open, splitting down the middle and sweeping up. The light, or rather, the heat, blinded Martha, and in the corner of her eye she thought she saw the Doctor wince as well. Her vision cleared, and she stood stunned looking at the great path, a car less boulevard lined with shops and small eateries. A few dozen Amehans walked along the sides of the street, the center of which was decorated with flowing statues that glowed brightly at their bases and extended upwards into darkness.

She could see the Amehans perfectly now as they loped along. The way they walked was comical, like cartoons of cavemen she'd seen as a child. Their noses never stopped twitching. They wore a variety of clothes, but many wore none. Some had on long, plain toga-like shirts on reaching their knees, while a few wore what could have passed for suits, or at least what a suit would become this far into the future. Still, the majority seemed happy to wear only the fur they grew, which was long and thick. She felt the Doctor take her hand, and she looked over to see him watching her still, with a serious expression on his face.

"What is it?" She asked.

"Last time I checked, the Amehans never had much to do with clothes. Nothing to do with them, actually." He paused. "Ever."

"And? They've had contact with thousands of other species, I'd imagine, and lots of them wear clothes." She responded.

"Right, but it's a point of pride for them. Inferior species cover themselves. The Amehans believe they are perfect as they are. Also helps the whole species reproduces asexually. And grows fur. Makes selling cosmetics difficult, I'd imagine... But no. This is wrong." The Doctor finished. He ran his tongue over his teeth, thinking. He squeezed her hand.

"Let's find out where these moles got their misplaced sense of modesty. Up for a mystery?" He asked, smiling.

"Always." She replied, smiling back.


	2. Chapter 2

-1The Doctor and Martha sat at a table in a large amphitheater, together with around 100 Amehans. The Doctor stretched his legs across another chair with Martha sitting beside him. The curtain had not yet risen, and Martha was observing a group of aliens sitting down at a table across from them. They looked reptilian, with patches of fur seemingly at random on their skin. What she found most interesting was the painstaking effort that was put into styling the tufts. Curled, straightened, gelled and spiked, the hair under ordinary circumstances would have been the most absurd thing about them.

"So Doctor," Martha asked, "What's the deal with that lot?"

"Hmm?" The Doctor replied, looking over. "Oh. Now that is strange." He leaned forward to take a closer look. Martha waited, but he didn't answer. He simply sat, gaping at them.

"Doc-" She began.

"As much as I really, truly, deeply hate to admit this," The Doctor said with a troubled look upon his face, "I don't know what they are. But, it is good to see they have equally as poor eyesight under these conditions as we do."

Martha nodded. "So that's what the helmets are for."

"Well, I'm actually not sure, to be honest. Could be a re-breather unit, some sort of atmospheric converter, or even a translation device." The Doctor continued to stare at the strange group of aliens, a total of three, while speaking. "Thing is though, hard to tell what they are without being able to see their faces."

Slowly and together, as if it were choreographed, the aliens all turned to face the doctor. Their strange helmets emitted little heat, and the only way to see their heads at all was to watch the puffs of warm air being vented, halo-like, from around their necks. A long narrow visor wrapped around the helmet,

Martha looked away. "Ok, so that was creepy."

"A bit unexpected, yes." The Doctor said.

"Amehans, and other assorted races, may I have your attention please!" Came a voice. Unnoticed by the Doctor or Martha, a large Amehan had come up to center stage. "Due to a technical difficulty that cannot be resolved, I must announce that today's performance has been cancelled."

"What? Cancelled?" Came the reverberating cries from the crowd. While the majority of those present protested the cancellation, the group of three helmeted aliens stood up together, and walked out. The Doctor watched them go, spinning the sonic in his hand.

"Well Doctor," Said Martha, "What do you think - " She turned away from the Amehan announcer to see the Doctor already gone, following the three aliens. She sighed, and went to run after him, but he had pulled too far away. She strained with her new vision to find him, and found it wasn't hard finding the only two hearted creature close by. Still far though, she thought tiredly, and gave chase.

The Doctor ran up a broad passage that had arced off the main boulevard, his trench coat trailing behind him. They had seen him, and ran. That made it even more interesting - he wasn't large or intimidating, so why would they run? Either they had something to hide, or they knew who he was, he reasoned as the grade of the hill became more severe. After running for easily 10 minutes, the Doctor began to feel weary - he could still see his quarry, but where were they going? Finally, the tunnel flattened out, and the Doctor realized where he had been lead - right back to the same entrance that sat beside the TARDIS.

"Oh no you don't." He muttered as he rushed up the ladder. He threw open the hatch and only had a split second to realize his mistake. He grabbed his glasses and threw them as he howled with pain, holding his face in his hands as he threw himself forwards, legs still dangling down the shaft as he balanced on the edge laying on his stomach. The fall had knocked the wind out of him, and he winced as he slowly picked himself up, and looked around. One of the aliens was standing only a half a meter away, holding his glasses. It extended them out to him.

The Doctor dusted himself off before reaching for the glasses which the alien still held out. It still wore the strange helmet, but in the light the Doctor could finally see it clearly. Thick, heavy scales covered the majority it's body, except for the ridiculously styled patches of fur that clung randomly across its body. The creatures hands were boney with long, tapered fingers ending in points. Not claws, but the bone jutting out from the flesh.

"Thank you." The Doctor said, tucking his glasses back in his breast pocket. The alien regarded him silently.

The Doctor looked around. "So," he began, "Where have your friends-" He stared. The other two aliens clung absurdly to the sides of the TARDIS, their bone-claws ripping into the wood as they held on, presumably for dear life. He scratched his head, bringing his hand down to tug on his ear.

"Right, so what's all this about?" He asked the alien in front of him. He stepped closer until he was inches from the alien, looking straight into the visor. It did not flinch nor back up, but rather simply continued to observe him. It bothered the Doctor to not be able to look the creature in the eyes.

Their staring contest was broken by a scream. The Doctor spun around to see Martha throw herself from the ladder onto the ground. She was holding her eyes and moaning, kicking her feet as she struggled to stand without moving her hands from her face. He came to her side and helped her up.

"My eyes..." She moaned. "I didn't think... I just opened the hatch, and the sun... the heat..."

"It'll be all right. Here." He said, producing both the sonic and his glasses. He ran the instrument over them, the glass glowing a bright molten blue. "Put these on." He instructed. She reached out blindly with one hand and the Doctor pressed the folded glasses in her hand. She quickly put them on, and opened her eyes slowly.

"Hi." She said sheepishly, dusting herself off before freezing at the sight of the alien and his companions, still clinging to the side of the TARDIS.

" 'ello." He said, smiling. "Not a bad look you know. Might want to take you shopping for a pair after all this."

"Doctor..." She began, still looking at the aliens.

"Yes." He nodded, squinting at the alien in front of him. "First things first and all that."

He looked sternly at the alien. "Why did you run from me?"

The creature observed him silently, and then reached up and cautiously unhitched latches holding the helmet in place. He lifted it off. Huge, deep set jet black eyes regarded the Doctor and Martha from a face heavily scared with bone jutting out at the chin and cheeks. Martha couldn't see a nose, or a mouth for that matter. The thick scales seemed tattered and worn, and were nearly translucent on its forehead.

"Oh." The Doctor sighed. He stared sadly at the creature. "I'm sorry."

"What is it?" Martha whispered.

"Shhhhh." He said, his gaze never breaking from the creature in front of him, which despite the lace of facial features seemed clearly embarrassed to be seen.

"I'm the Doctor, but I suspect you knew that. I can help you, but first I need to know what's wrong." He raised a hand, and gestured to the alien's temples. "May I?"

The alien nodded slowly. He slowly raised his hands to the creature's temples, and placed them softly upon it. It's skin was cool, and he saw gills along it's neck involuntarily flex at his touch. He closed his eyes.

"If there is anything you don't wish me to see, I need you to imagine a door, or a wall. Close it from me." He instructed. The alien complied. In his mind's eye, the Doctor saw the space available to him shrink. But one memory seemed to glow through the door. A large building, with many people. Still, he dove further into the alien's memories, choosing the ignore the memory. If he really needed to know, it would tell him.

He saw himself. A great metal wall was rising up to reveal himself, scanning the area intently. The Doctor then reached forward, but not towards the alien. The scene shifted and the alien had turned it's head to watch him open a large medical tank. The waters rushed out, and the Doctor barely caught Martha as she hit the floor. She was unconscious and barely breathing. He held her, then carefully picked her up and carried her out of the creatures range of vision. The wave of anger, the pressure of abandonment and rejection were like a physical blow. He took a step back, breaking the link.

"You didn't run from me. You ran from her."

The alien nodded, it's eyes glistening.

The Doctor stood, hands in pockets. His head hurt. How had he let Martha be captured, and why was this creature along side her? Why hadn't he taken all of the prisoners with him?

"My species is receptive to telepathic communication, even if I can't reply in kind." He stated.

The alien closed it's eyes, and relaxed. "Doctor." She said, a whisper.

The Doctor frowned at Martha. "Just wait." He said.

"But I didn't say anything!" Martha protested.

"Doctor." The whisper came again, and the alien reached out and touched his hand.

His eyes opened wide, as the realization of the gravity of the situation hit him. "I'm sorry." He said to the alien, and then he turned to Martha. "I'm so sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" Martha asked, clearly perplexed.

"I..." He began, then stopped, reconsidering his words. "Martha, this creature has had a complete psychograft clone of your mind placed upon it. She's you."

"No. No, were it me, wouldn't it cause the universe to implode or something now that we're together?" She asked, even more confused than before.

"She's not you, but a copy, so no paradox. But you and she have the same memories, the exact same mind."

"So it's safe?" They both asked at the same time. The Doctor under other circumstances might have found it amusing.

"Yes, perfectly, but certainly this complicates the situation. First the Amehans develop a taste for clothes, and now this lot following us here." He looked over at the other two aliens. "Who are they?" he asked the clone.

"They were taken prisoner with me." She responded. Her voice was so much like Martha's, but sounded as if she were always in pain. "We don't talk about who we were. All they needed to know is that I knew someone who could fix us."

"And why did you come here? Why now?" He asked, looking intently into the creatures eyes. The intense black was like a starless sky.

"Because as it happened, I left the table to get drinks, and you were alone. That's when we planned to speak to you." She said, her voice taking on more volume and depth in his mind. "But then the performance was cancelled. It didn't happen like that before."

The Doctor stood silently, hands in pockets. Martha still gaped in disbelief at the creature. It couldn't possibly be her. Not that... thing, she thought.

"Tell you what," The Doctor began. "Let's sort this out on the TARDIS. I can't help unless I can see what races you are made of. Well, clearly human, but what else..." He placed both hands on the creatures sloping shoulders, then brought one to it's chin. "I will help you, Martha Jones." He spoke quietly and sincerely, their eyes locked before the clone broke the stare. It loped off to the TARDIS, and her companions slowly climbed off the ship, and removed their helmets. Their eyes were also a deep black, with the same jutting bone and thick scales.

"Thank you, Doctor. Thank you." Came their thoughts.

"Right, c'mon Martha." The Doctor said. Both the clone and the original looked at him. The Doctor sighed. "C'mon Marthas." He said, smiling. "And you two too! In you go!" He laughed, opening the door to the TARDIS. The real Martha, as she'd come to think of herself, waited until the clones entered. She tugged the arm of the Doctors trench as he went to step in.

"I'm going to become her?" She asked, clearly worried.

"I'm going to save you, Martha. I've seen it happen. But not before she comes to be."

"But... it's..." She began slowly. "It's disgusting."

The Doctor scowled. "You know," He began in an exasperated tone, "Your lot's habit of being so caught up in the way you look is really distasteful. She's you." He emphasized. "She's you. If you think you're unhappy, think about her. Because the way you feel about thinking about being her is the way she actually feels, and it's easily a hundred times worse than imagining it."

Martha stood in stunned silence.

"Martha, I'm not sure if I can prevent her from coming into existence. If I did, in effect, I'd be executing her. She'd fade." He said sadly. "Right in front of us." He was angry, his eyes seemingly burning holes into her, and Martha refused to meet them.

"But what if she asked you to?" She asked quietly.

The Doctor 's eyes widened ever so slightly. He opened his mouth to speak, but shut it when he realized he was incapable of expressing his contempt for her at that moment. He strode into the TARDIS, not particularly caring if she followed. When he heard her footsteps behind him and the click of the door shutting, the Doctor was angry at himself for the slight feeling of relief it brought him.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Sorry for the long delay. Farming honor is time consuming work, and my paladin needs new boots/bracers.

Martha sat in a small room onboard the TARDIS on a small bed which was covered in a thin, white sheet. The walls were the same strange organic color and design of the rest of the ship, and the ceiling arched absurdly high for the small space. She was still wearing the Doctor's glasses, waiting for him. Bored, she kicked her legs off the edge and kicked them against the bed. She was still in a bit of shock. Somewhere, close by, was her psychograph clone. She'd come to the realization after her last conversation with the Doctor that it really wasn't fair to even keep thinking of her as "the clone", or as herself as "real". She sat mulling over the Doctor's response to her. It really hadn't been her intention to upset him so much. The thought just... popped out. Still, she thought glumly, it was the truth at the time. The door opened quietly, and the Doctor walked in, sonic in hand. In his other, he was carrying on of the alien's headpieces.

Martha averted her eyes from his gaze. She was embarrassed and he, she supposed, was still angry. He walked over to a console and placed the helmet in a large receptacle, which melded back into the wall. A series of displays began to light up, displaying information which to Martha appeared to be wide, interlocking circles. The language of the Time Lords. Her problems momentarily forgotten, she sat and watched with intrest, until the Doctor looked over her shoulder at her. She looked down quickly.

"Martha," He began, leaning against the console, on foot over the other. "What do you want to do?"

"What do you mean?" She asked, confused. "About what?"

The Doctor came close to rolling his eyes, but instead began to configure the sonic. "About her."

"Save her, obviously. Keep that from happening to me. Her." She quickly corrected.

"I'd rather like to keep it from happening to both of you." He said quietly.

"But that's not really possible, is it? Now that she's here, if we don't follow the same timeline, won't we cause her to fade?"

"Yes and no." The Doctor said, looking intently down at the screwdriver in his hands.

"What'd you mean, 'yes and no'?" She asked, mildly annoyed.

"Martha," The Doctor sighed. "We're had this conversation, haven't we? Back to the Future? Wibbly wobbly?" He tugged his ear unconsciously. "No, not the wibbly part. Thing is, because they've changed the timeline now, we've been given some freedom we wouldn't usually have."

"But how can we trace back a timeline that now hasn't happened?"

The Doctor grinned. "Because I'm clever."

Martha rolled her eyes. "Oh really?" She asked mockingly.

"I'm a Time Lord, Martha." He said, suddenly serious. "I can see what every choice that wasn't made could have become. But we're still missing too much of the puzzle."

"Right, but how do we figure it out? Where do we start?"

"You really are intent on taking the fun out of everything." He said. "Now, lie back just for a minute, we'll get you back to normal. Well... as close as you came in the first place."

Was that a joke? Martha was surprised the conversation had gone so well. She was expecting to be thrashed up one side and down the other for her comment at the door of the TARDIS. He was, without a doubt, insane. Or very forgiving. The Doctor carefully removed his glasses from her as he simultaneously fired the sonic into her left, then right eye. She was shocked - it wasn't painful at all. More bothersome at the worst.

"Right! There we are then." The Doctor said as he pulled the sonic away, clearly satisfied with his work.

She stood up, rubbing her eyes. "That didn't hurt at all."

"The initial rewiring is the tough part - after that, easy." He smiled, tucking the sonic back in his jacket and turned to leave, but paused at the door. "You need to spend some time with her." He said quietly.

"Doing what? I'm no psychic." Martha replied defensively. Now it starts, she thought ruefully.

"Martha, humans are empathic. You won't be able to hear thoughts, because that's for the really clever species," He said in mock seriousness, "But you'll easily be able to see the memories that she wants you to, especially with the TARDIS's help."

"And how exactly will the ship be helping me?" She asked.

"How do you think you always hear English no matter where we go? It's the TARDIS translating, but it's deeper than that. It can amplify and focus psychic emissions." The Doctor replied matter-of-factly.

"Right." Martha said, without much enthusiasm.

"Will you talk to her then?" He asked. If she didn't know better, it would almost seem as if he were pleading.

"Yes! I will!" She replied quickly, regretting the commitment as soon as she spoke.

"Thanks." He said smiling, as he left the medbay.

Martha sat in the center of the TARDIS, the great glowing engine slowly pulsating. She twisted the chair around and put her feet up on the railing, feeling the metal's odd warmth against her calves. The gentle light was soothing, and she would have sighed peacefully.

Had she a mouth.

Bringing her hands up, she played idly with her bone tipped fingers. Once, it hurt even to hold a small object. The skin hadn't yet become accustomed to the jutting bone and every step, every touch, was painful. She looked at her feet, the three toes large and unsymmetrical, the bone tips discoloured from walking so long barefoot. Briefly, she considered painting them.

Ugly. So very ugly, she thought with rising anger.

"Hi." Came a voice. Martha stood at the doorway from the medbay, arms crossed to hold her jacket over herself.

Silence. Martha let her hands relax their grip around her jacket. Perhaps despite what the Doctor believed, they couldn't communicate. Her mind wandered to what he'd said about the TARDIS being psychic, when suddenly the scene in her mind shifted.

"There's something I'm missing Martha," He said, looking right into her eyes but somehow beyond her. "Something really close staring me right in the face and I can't see it."

The emotion was intensified. She was there again, laying in the bed with him.

"Rose'd know. Friend of mine, Rose, right now she'd say exactly the right thing."

The rejection she felt was more powerful than even what she'd felt then. She really believed she'd come to terms with it, with him, with her, but apparently not. She shook her head. Why was she thinking of this n-

The clone's great black eyes dug into her like knives. She pointed at Martha, the bone tip moving slowly in a small circle. Martha narrowed her eyes at the clone.

"Was that you?" She asked, feeling stupid for asking.

The clone nodded. The eyes caught Martha again. The memory came again, even more intense than before. Martha took a step back, reeling from the emotion. It was more than rejection. It was anger, blazing in her mind.

"Stop it." Martha said. "Why are so focused on that? It was ages ago."

The Doctor stepped out into the room, caring in his arms one of the aliens. His face was pained, and he moved with purpose, swiftly over to a console by the engines. He stopped briefly to put the alien down.

"Rose..." He murmured to the alien, holding its hand. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He then moved rapidly to activate the consoles of the TARDIS, working more quickly than she'd ever seen before. He didn't even look up when she came closer. She stood at the center console, as he moved around. He brushed by her without flinching, or noticing. But then... he darted right through her.

Martha shut her eyes.

"That's enough!" She yelled at the clone, opening her eyes. "Do that again and I'll - "

" - do what?"

Martha spun around to find herself inches from the Doctor. He was frowning at Martha. She couldn't help but be slackjawed. How long had he been there? Could he see what the clone had showed her?

"I... she..." Martha stumbled to find the words. "I need to go." She blurted out, pushing by the Doctor to head to the dormitories. He watched her go, one eyebrow up. He then looked back at the clone. She sat seemingly undisturbed, also watching Martha as she bolted out of the room.

Martha felt the TARDIS shudder as it began to travel again. She sat alone, in a alcove in her small room aboard the ship. She looked at her shoes, and didn't hear the Doctor enter.

" 'ello." He said quietly.

"Listen, I know, you're angry. I'm angry. I can't explain but - "

The Doctor shook his head sadly. "You realize that she's you? That all those emotions are yours? You know, I really didn't give you humans enough credit – not many species can generate emotions that strong. Certainly not apes." He sniffed, rubbing his nose. Martha was silent.

"You think I've taken good care of her?" He asked.

"Of course." She answered, knowing it was the truth.

"Funny, because she doesn't. She seems to think were she someone else," He extended the word, letting it sit, "That I'd be doing much more to help her." He sat down on her cot, resting his elbows on his knees and placing his face in his hands.

Martha bit her tongue to keep from gasping. "You saw it?" She said, attempting to remain calm.

The Doctor sighed. "Of course I saw it."

"The whole...?" She sputtered.

"The whole thing. Remember? Clever species and all that?" He said, tapping to his temple. "But now the question is, what to do."

"I..." Martha began hesitantly. "I can't accept she's me anymore. Those might be my memories, but they aren't my emotions."

"Aren't they?" He asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

"No." She said firmly.

"Right then!" He said, standing up. "So, now we have an even better mystery than before, and the key to it is sitting out there, thinking that she's managed to set us against each other."

"But if she's that powerful of a telepath, doesn't she know what's going on here?" Martha asked.

"Well, see... I needed you actually angry at me for a reason. I normally don't go about enraging and embarrassing people for no - "

"You don't?" Martha laughed.

" - good reason, but I needed the TARDIS to take an imprint of those emotions right as they happened. Now, it's using a psychic dampening field to disguise what you really think using those old emotions as a blueprint."

"Right. Of course! I'm giving up on being surprised today..." Martha muttered.

"Oi, don't think like that!" The Doctor grinned. "Because I think your really going to like where we're heading next."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Note: Apologies for the severe delay. In the past months we've lost many employees at my workplace, and due to state regulations we must maintain a specific ratio of staff to clients, hence I've been doing 60-70 hour weeks. On the plus side, all the overtime is delicious. We've gotten a new crop of trainees finally ready to go, and so I can get back to the serious business of playing WoW and writing god-awful fic. Keeping with that tradition, here come chapters 4 and 5, which will conclude this story.

The sun hung low and red in the sky of the port-city of Shir'tah. It filtered though the skyscrapers to reach the ground in narrow strips along the dusty street upon which Martha, the Doctor, and the clone now walked. The buildings around them were glossy white and devoid of any decoration save communications equipment, and what the Doctor had insisted was a street appeared more to Martha to be an alleyway, dark and unkempt.

"You'd think they'd invest in some air conditioners for those offices," Martha thought aloud.

"They have – these buildings extend twice their height into the ground, and the hot air is pumped down, cooled, and recycled up." The Doctor grinned. "Never been to Sedona, have you?"

"Been to where?" She asked.

"Only the best place for aliens to relax on Earth in the 21st century. Well, that and Santa Monica."

Martha smiled to cover the fact she didn't get it.

"Although speaking of strange," He said, stopping and peering around the corner, "Here it is."

A grand bazaar stretched out just south of the alleyway. Martha stood on her toes and looked over the Doctor's shoulder, while the clone tipped her head around his waist. The smells were amazing – perfume, spices, fruit, freshly dyed never-worn cloth, to say nothing of the sight of it. Brightly colored canvas stretched over a multitude of stalls as species of every type browsed their goods. The clone too seemed to be interested, staring intently at a stall covered in rich red cloth.

"Whoa!" The Doctor hollered, pushing both Marthas back into the alleyway as a giant foot slammed into the earth where they had been standing. Gazing downwards, the owner of the foot bellowed in distress. He came to all fours, his two trunks and large ears gently grazing the ground.

"I offer you my most humble apologies." It said in a soft, deep baritone. Three large brown eyes considered the three of them.

"Not a problem!" Beamed the Doctor. "I'm the Doctor, and you are?"

"I am E'ran, Fifth Merchant Commander to the Crown Prince. I am here to purchase the monarchy's first set of royal attire." The beast sighed. "I was told the bazaar was not to be missed, but I find it more prudent to miss stepping on my fellow sentient and thus have seen little."

"Well, why don't you come with us then E'ran?" The Doctor offered casually.

E'ran picked his head up and turned his head to appraise the Doctor. "I would be indebted to you." He said, "But will your wife and daughter agree to it? I seek to cause no further disruptions."

The Doctor's smile was frozen comically on his face.

"We'd love you to come along!" Said Martha cheerfully, extending her hand.

"Old Earth customs! Your husband must spoil you with books." Said E'ran, extending a trunk to Martha. As she took hold of it, or rather to say, as the trunk wrapped around her forearm and nearly dislocated her shoulder with the vigor of it's shake, she leaned as close as she could to E'ran's ear.

"I'm not his wife, and it," She said, glancing at the clone, "is of no relation. Just wanted you to know."

"Oh." Whispered E'ran, his ears turning pink. "Thank you for informing me."

"So!" Martha said loudly, bumping the Doctor hard with her shoulder. "Let's go get lunch."

E'ran lifted himself back onto his hind legs, and pointed with a short, chubby finger to the red tent. "That is the only eating establishment which has accommondations for one of my size. They do, however, serve many old earth dishes which you may find of historical value."

"Do they have chips?" Quipped the Doctor, looking hopefully at the stall.

"The starchy root boiled in the fat of animals and seasoned with minerals?"

"When you say it like that," Said Martha, "They really don't sound all that good."

"Well, looks like someone is making the choice for us!" Said the Doctor, walking briskly but choosing a path through the crowd that E'ran could follow. He kept his eyes intently on the clone, who dove into the stall.

The Doctor gestured for Martha to come closer. "I need to follow her, keep E'ran here company." He said, as he ran to the shop. Martha stood, waiting for E'ran as he lumbered forward. Together they entered the stall, and were seated on the patio. Martha craned her neck to look for the Doctor, but she didn't see him anywhere in the restaurant.

"Have you ever," Asked E'ran hopefully, "Eaten something called a banana?"

The Doctor bolted through the back of the shop. The clone was lighter on it's feet than he's anticipated, and following it's small form through the thick crowds was difficult. His trench coat billowed as he dashed around another corner, only to see the clone dive through a wall.

Panting, he pressed his hand to the wall. Solid and smooth, but.. He smiled. Adjusting the sonic, he passed it along a section of wall a few yards off from where the clone had entered. Brushing his hair back and returning the sonic, he walked though the wall.

And into a conference room. The Doctor quickly scanned the room, which was strikingly dull. A large desk surrounded by plain gray chairs, and a file cabinet with a potted plant in the corner. He felt disappointed. Walking up to the table, he noticed two files open, their contents spread out. Grainy photos were clipped to large maps which were covered in blue highlighter dots. Alongside each dot were jotted the time and date in galactic standard, and some reference to magnitude. This was initially also disappointing to the Doctor, until he saw the plans for Satellite 5, covered with reference points. Clipped to it was a map of the greater London area, and the only mark, bright red, was where he had once behaved very stupidly before passing out.

As he hurriedly shifted through the paper on the desk, the Doctor reflected happily on the fact that he was no longer disappointed. He was also, however, worried. He pulled out another map, this one a detailed map of San Fransisco, with two red dots very close to one another. He held the map up to the lighting. Two dots in the same building.

The Doctor replaced the map, and ran his hand through his hair. It was then that he heard voices coming down the hall. Moving swiftly, he pressed his sonic to the wall, and ran out. He adjusted the device and returned the wall to it's seemingly solid state, save one small spot at which he sat and listened. As it turned out, he didn't even need to do that.

The TARDIS was strange looking from such a short perspective, but every critical system had been examined with military detail. The clone poured forth different sequences of interaction between the Doctor and Martha, he and the clones. Each one was presented with tactical commentary on how such relationship were exploitable. At the end of it's report, the imagery vanished. The Doctor strained to hear what was said next.

"The plan is already in motion. Stay away from the sub levels, or else you risk crossing your own timeline. Dismissed."

The Doctor reeled. This was it. He had to get to -

A hand rested on his shoulder. Bone tipped fingers dug through his coat.

"End it." She said simply. He turned to meet her gaze, and saw not the clone, but Martha. He looked again at the hand, which was clearly the clone's. But it was Martha who was standing over him.

"I can't."

"Sever the link mid-transfer. It will only damage the copy, not the original." She gripped his shoulder more tightly.

"Martha, you'll die. I can't let -"

She smiled. "You've seen what working for them is. Do this for me. Please."

The Doctor stood, and put his hands on her shoulders. "I'll save you."

"Yes," She said, "You will." Slowly her image faded, replaced by the clone. Behind her extended a thousand other clones, surrounded by agents of the Time Agency.

"From this." And she vanished.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Note: Welcome to the beginning of the end. Writing this, as well as seeing the spoiler photos from the end of the 4th season of Doctor Who, has inspired me to write something that I believe people will find infinitely more offensive than a 10/Martha fic with no slash and minimal angst. Coming soon, to a browser near you.

The Doctor's trench coat rested in the dirt of the alleyway, having been abandoned by it's owner who was currently sprinting down the street. At the same time, there was a sentient who by all appearances appeared to be an elephant with two trunks and three eyes sprinting up the street.

As usual, the Doctor followed the screams, and ran straight into E'ran. Rather, E'ran nearly caused the Doctor to regenerate had it not been for a lucky roll out of the path of the elephant.

"E'ran!" The Doctor screamed. "Where's Martha?"

E'ran turned on a dime, and let out a whistle of relief to have found the Doctor. "Thank the mother I found you! Two men and a many small creatures took your friend. I was chasing them, but they climbed down through the ground."

"Yeah," The Doctor panted. "They do that. Show me where, exactly where, they went down."

"Certainly." Said E'ran. "And I hope you'll forgive me."

"It's not your fau – OI!" Two thick fingers had grasped him by the nape of his neck and were lifting him up.

"Sit here." E'ran said, gently placing him on his neck. "And hold on!"

E'ran trumpeted and slammed the ground with his front feet, and began to charge. The city itself seemed to make way for them as he charged recklessly back while the Doctor grinned wickedly. He was tucked in close to the neck of E'ran, keeping his seat by gripping with his knees. In one hand he held his sonic, in the other a tuft of E'ran's scraggly mane.

E'ran stopped suddenly at a large pothole in the road, reared and smashed at it with his feet.

"This is it! I tried to break through."

"I can see that." Said the Doctor, sliding down E'ran's flank and landing hard on the ground.

He lowered his sonic. "E'ran, you won't be able to follow me," He began to fire the sonic in pulses at the ground, "But I wanted to thank you."

E'ran nodded. "Please save her."

With that, the Doctor jumped through the road, and fell.

Martha screamed, and again clawed at her captors. Three clones were dragging her through the base, and the more she fought them, the deeper their claws dug, but she didn't care.

"Let me go!" She hollered, attempting to work a foot free to kick the creature which had her legs. She only succeeded in having the clone's claws draw more blood. They passed room after room filled with medical equipment. Lab technicians gave her passing glances. Finally they reached their destination. A technician, his face covered with a white medical mask up to his eyes, came out with a mess of wiring in his hands.

He looked sadly at her. "Please hold her still." He said to the clones.

"Don't do this." Martha said. "Because I promise you, you'll regret it."

"I already do." He said softly as he began to arrange the diodes on her skull.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"I regret everything, but it's OK. I know things get better."

"Well," Martha said angrily, "it's nice to see you've got such a great outlook on life. Perhaps with a little more positive thinking you could let me go."

"Have you had work done? I'd love to know," he said quietly but sharply, "the name of the doctor."

Martha's eyes grew wide. He couldn't possibly know.

"Martha Jones," he whispered, "you are more important to the future than you can imagine. Than I could imagine until I saw it." He continued to connect diodes to her, glancing back at the machine giving readouts. She stared at him in mute shock.

"The Doctor is coming to save you," He appeared to be smiling under the mask, "and I've got to make sure you're around to save him."

Martha screamed as the technician stabbed a needle into her chest. She gasped for air, and she weakly clawed at his arm. Her vision began fade, and darkness enveloped her.

"This drug will keep you alive in the capsule." She heard him say as she struggled to remain conscious. "Tell the Doctor..." He sighed. "Don't tell him any of this."

He pressed the com on his wrist. "The subject is ready for the psychographic cloning procedure."

The Doctor threw open another door, charging down the hallway. He'd heard a scream, and he was sure it was Martha.

"Hey! You aren't -" Shouted a tech, reaching for his wristband. The Doctor was faster, firing the sonic directly into his eyes. He went down screaming, clawing at his face, like many of the other techs that had tried to stop him.

"I'm sorry," The Doctor yelled as he ran by the man, "but it's temporary."

And it is better than you deserve for what you're doing, he thought angrily. Though another door, and he found himself standing in front of a plain wall. Gasping for breath, he raised the sonic again. Slowly, the wall lifted to reveal a row of tanks. Martha floated in one, her life signs fluctuating. In the other, the clone twitched as the psychic cloning process rewrote the structure of it's brain. He raised his sonic and targeted the tank Martha was in.

He stood there, the sonic ready. Waiting.

His arm lowered, followed by his head. A monitor went off, and a console below Martha's tank began flashing series of yellow lights.

"Still, you won't do it." Said the clone, standing at the entrance behind him.

He spun to face her. He opened his mouth, to tell her how dangerous what she was doing was...

"Coward!" She spat the words at him venomously. "What kind of compassion is this?"

"I'll always choose life over death." He said calmly, his expression now flat.

"Then you're wrong. Do you know what kind of life this is?" She growled in his mind, walking closer. Her black eyes flashed like polished obsidian, razor sharp.

"It's A life -" The Doctor began.

"No, it's not. It's not. Being a slave, ordered like an animal, spying on your friends, you call **this** a life?" She stood toe to toe with him, but her head only came up to his stomach. She cocked her head back as far as it would go to look him in the eyes.

The Doctor gazed down, stunned. "I won't, Martha. I'll take you with me, let you start - "

He was stopped by the sensation of his head snapping to the left, and felt the sharp talons on her foot tear into his face. He felt the weight on his chest of the clone's other foot as she dug her claws and sprung over him, pushing him to the ground. He landed hard on his back, and groaned, rolling to his side.

"No!" he shouted as she sprinted toward the control mechanisms for the tank her past self floated in. He scrambled for his sonic, but saw it laying across the room. Too far. She'd reached the console and ripped open a service panel. An alarm went off, then another. Both tanks were registering critical errors.

"You know," Came a voice from behind the workings of the tanks, "that this isn't the solution."

The clone stared at this new opponent with what the Doctor believed to be recognition. She leapt forward, claws open wide. The Doctor reached forward, powerless to save the man.

Or to save her. The concussion from the gunshot threw her back, and she slid limply along the concrete floor, coming to rest against a stack of containers.

"What have you done?" The Doctor raged, rushing to her side. She was breathing, a hypodermic needle buried in a bruise on her chest 6 inches wide at least. He pulled the dart out, and turned on the man. He stood as tall as the Doctor, wearing white technician's gear which obscured his face. All he could see of the man were his eyes, cold and blue.

"I couldn't kill her either." He said. "But we both know, she can't go on like this."

The Doctor looked over at the clone, and at the tanks, still flashing red.

He nodded.

"You're the only one who can manipulate this time line without causing critical damage to the fabric of space and time." He said, tapping on his wrist. "You've got 2 minutes. It's all the time either of them has."

The Doctor grinned, and grabbed his sonic. Twisting the device, he pointed it upwards. Wind rushed through the room as he called the TARDIS to himself. He opened the doors and carried the clone inside, laying her on the deck gently. He gave himself a moment to ponder her, his Martha. This was humanity when it was driven to the brink. Every species, not just humans, he thought bitterly.

"Doctor, thirty seconds!" Boomed the technician. He rushed out of the TARDIS, sonic in hand and pointed at Martha's tank.

"Is the transfer complete?" He yelled over the sound of alarms.

"Yes!" The tech yelled back.

A blue light flooded the room, and the tanks began to crack. "Get the clone, I've got her!" The Doctor yelled.

The tanks burst open, and both men barely caught their occupants. Martha gasped, her hands at her throat as she fell into the Doctor's arms.

"It's OK. I've got you." The Doctor said, carrying her away from the broken glass and liquid of the tanks. "Can you stand?" He asked.

"I think so," Martha said, slowly pushing herself away from him. She paused, examining the lacerations on his face. "You need stitches." She said, sounding much more her normal self.

"Oh I don't know. Isn't the rugged look in?" He replied playfully, smiling. Unfortunately doing so only emphasized the damage the clone's claws had done, and more blood dripped down his face. Martha continued to examine the wounds, her expression still intently worried.

"Guess not then." He said, turning from her to the technician.

The technician kneeld on the floor, holding the limp form of the clone. "We were too late," He whispered.

"For her, yes." The Doctor said. "But not for her." He opened the TARDIS doors, revealing the clone, still lying prone on the floor.

"But how?" Asked Martha.

The Doctor smiled sadly. "The TARDIS sits outside the flow of time. If it weren't for it, she'd no longer exist, and we'd be sitting in a rupture in the fabric of space and time."

Martha walked up to the clone, and put her hand to it's scaled face. She spent a moment, before turning back to the Doctor. "What happens to her now?"

"She's been driven insane. There's no hope of saving her short of a full mental wipe, and even that won't work if the time agency has hard wired her for their use."

"They have." Answered the tech.

The Doctor took the sonic screwdriver out of his pocket and pointed it briefly at the TARDIS. The doors slammed shut, which was quickly followed by the sound of Martha pounding.

"Doctor! Doctor, what's going on?"

The Doctor turned to the tech, sonic still extended but now pointed squarely at his chest.

"That reminds me," Said the Doctor casually, as if he weren't threatening the man in the least. "How did you know my name?"

The tech stood silent.

"I asked you a question," the Doctor said quietly, "and if there is one thing to be learned from this, it's that making me angry is a very, **very** poor choice."

"So is polluting the time line. I've left the address of a cryogenics facility in a remote sector here. I suggest you take the clone there, before she wakes up."

"Who are you, to be suggesting anything?" The Doctor growled. "And regardless, no member of the Time Agency really cares about the damage they cause, much less understand it."

The man's shoulders fell. "You're absolutely right. They don't."

The Doctor's eyebrows crunched together.

"If it makes you feel better," The man offered with a shrug, "They will. But you know that."

"And I wouldn't lift a finger to prevent it from happening."

The man's cheeks rose, hinting at a grin under the mask. "No second chances." He said. The grin grew wider as he suspected that he'd gotten one, if not both, of the Time Lord's hearts to skip a beat. The Doctor's glare was intense, but below it, he was confused. Feeling that this was a suitably dramatic moment to make an exit, Jack Harkness activated his Vortex Manipulator.

"Oh no. Not a vortex manipulator." The Doctor said sarcastically, adjusting the sonic.

Jack fell through the vortex, and his body felt as though it had extended to cover the galaxy, and was being simultaneously crushed in the center of a black hole. It was better than dying, he reckoned. At least it was more interesting to look at. Finally he felt something familiar, the ground. Granted, he would have preferred his feet to be meeting it, but his face was good enough.

Jack pulled himself to his feet, blood seeping though the mask. He reached to take it off, when he heard a voice.

"I'd really rather you not." The Doctor said crossly. "If you really are in danger of polluting this time line, I'm going to assume that I'm somehow responsible for giving you the ability to do so."

He pulled at the side of jacket and replaced the sonic. Still keeping his eyes on the man, he pulled over a storage container and sat down.

"That being the case, better keep the mask on. But feel free to answer my questions." He said, crossing his legs and leaning back.

Jack nodded, still dazed.

"Why now? What is so important about this clone?" He asked, absentmindedly spinning his glasses in his hand.

"That hard wired programing I mentioned? It's an assassination protocol. These clones were designed with one purpose – to hunt time travelers other than the Time Agents. But this one," Jack sighed heavily, "Was designed with a talent in espionage as well."

"Steal the technology, kill the owner, silence the witnesses." The Doctor murmured. "Sounds about right."

It was right then that the Doctor felt a sensation he greatly disliked – his stomach falling. He bolted from his seat and dashed to the doors of the TARDIS, whipping the screwdriver out to unlock them. He threw open the doors.

The clone and Martha were gone. A console sputtered sparks, and the lighting flickered weakly, leaving the ship only lit by the center column. He felt sick, but was relieved by an emotion he had become quite accustomed to – rage. Rage, because he saw a thin trail of blood leading to the medical bay of the ship. He knew the smell all too well – human blood. As he began to ran, he heard the sound of the Vortex Manipulator again and decided it was a good thing with so much going on to not care about at least one event not going to plan. Hell, the surrealistically calm portion of the Doctor's mind thought, it's practically therapeutic.

He followed the trail of blood, and as he ran he concluded that Martha couldn't have been severely hurt. The only light now came through the floor of the ship, casting dark green shadows over the macabre interior. It was because of this he nearly missed the body of one of the creatures, crumpled in a heap against a bulkhead.

He knelt down and touched its neck. Dead. Deep slashes criss-crossed it's abdomen.

He stood and walked slowly the remaining few yards to the door of the med bay. He gripped the sonic tightly, ready for anything. The door lay feet away. Preparing for the worst, he entered.

One clone lay prone on the ground by the bed, it's head twisted at an impossible angle. The other lay on the medical bay gurney, it's hands folded neatly on it's chest. It's breath was deep and regular. The Doctor took another step into the bay, and froze.

Martha had been waiting, tucked along the wall. At the Doctor's left temple was a sheathed laser scalpel. He could hear the low pulse of the power cells in it, waiting to be fired. A press of a button, and a laser would extend from the device of exactly 6 inches in length, more than enough to kill him in an instant. He strained his eyes, peering left. Martha's face was contorted with rage.

"How could you?" She growled. "How could you leave me with these... things?"

Her hand trembled, grinding the scalpel into his skin.

The Doctor, with much exasperation, sighed. She cocked her head, clearly confused by his response.

"I hope you're ready to regenerate." She said maliciously, her thumb moving toward the activation switch.

"Do it." He said calmly. Martha's thumb paused. "The more quickly we get to the part where your psychic control over Martha fails, the better."

"But how?" She stammered.

"I mean, you really blew this one." The Doctor said, smiling wryly. "I'll admit though, the blood was a good try. Nice use of a real prop."

Martha's arm lowered, and the Doctor sighed a mental sigh of relief. The clone brought the scalpel, still sheathed, to rest on her neck.

"Oh, please." Said the Doctor, walking over to the gurney to examine the clone. He picked up an empty bottle which lay near the bed.

"I'll do it!" Martha cried, hand shaking wildly.

"You'll do nothing of the sort." The Doctor said, rooting through a large glass cabinet. "I mean, did they actually **train** you in the use of your powers? The survival instinct will keep you from killing yourself, and Martha," He paused, considering his words, "**My** Martha, wouldn't kill."

Having found what he was looking for, the Doctor opened a drawer, his back still turned to the clone. He pulled out a small hypodermic needle, and carefully filled it with a small amount from the bottle.

"Now, I'm going to assume that you've initiated a rough psychic impression, which means you are slowly causing irreparable damages to Martha's brain. Thankfully this stimulant," He waved the filled needle back and forth at her. "Will knock you out of your trance, and terminate the link."

"What about me?" She pleaded.

"As I once said to another body thief, you can float as atoms in the air." And with that, he injected the stimulant into the clone. Martha swung, trying to keep her balance as an explosion of blue light burst from her eyes. She groaned and began to fall, but caught herself on one of the shelving units.

"There's nothing left for you to take!" The Doctor shouted at the light, as it swirled in upon itself, becoming more and more dense.

In the light, he saw Martha's face ever so briefly, as she mouthed the words "Thank you." The blue light then began to swirl chaotically, and streamed with lightning speed directly towards the Doctor.

"I'm sorry." Martha heard him say, his voice quiet and pained, followed by the hum of the screwdriver. She looked up to find the light had completely vanished. The Doctor stood with the sonic still raised, frozen. His face was crestfallen. He lowered the screwdriver, but continued to stare ahead.

"Hey." Martha said weakly, still supporting herself on the cabinets.

The Doctor's face seemed to light up as he turned to her. " 'ello. You all right?"

"Yeah," Said Martha, "Just need the suture kit, please."

The Doctor raised his hands in protest. "It's really not necessary, I'm fine."

"It's not for you," She laughed weakly, raising her wrist. "She cut me to lay that trail for you. Or I cut myself. Not sure how that works. I got cut, and I need the suture kit. S'pose that's the point."

The Doctor went rummaging, and quickly found the box. He strode over to Martha and paused. She waited for him to speak, but found the silence too awkward.

"Look, about all this, if you don't want - " She began. "If you think I'm a... risk."

He rested his hands on her shoulders. "Martha Jones, I think I know you better than you know yourself." He said quietly, embracing her. "There's what we are, and what we might be." He continued as he pulled away. "And I'll only ever judge a person by what they are now."

"Thanks." She said, smiling. As she began to treat her wrist, the Doctor took a set of white shrouds from a drawer. Martha watched as he stared at each clone with an empty expression before wrapping them carefully. He paused the longest at her clone. For the first time, he could say that the creature looked peaceful.

"I've got something I need to do." The Doctor said without expression. "Will you be OK?"

"Never better." Replied Martha, not looking up from the careful work of applying a dermal bonding agent to the gash.

The Doctor picked up each clone, and moved them to the door of the TARDIS one by one. As he worked, he considered Martha's response. So focused she wasn't paying attention, or focused so she wouldn't have to? Either way, he thought wryly, that's very familiar behavior.

The bodies situated, the Doctor rose and walked solemnly to the TARDIS's controls. His hand paused over the controls as he considered where he should go.

"Yes," He said to himself. "That should be appropriate." Quickly he configured the ship, and let out a mental sigh as the engines began to pump.

The Doctor and Martha stood at the open doors to the TARDIS. Before them lay a burning blue sun, its surface like the ocean, swirling and turning upon itself. Silently they picked up the bodies of the clones, and carried them to the door. The shielding of the ship molded itself to allow each one though.

They stood side by side, watching the clones slowly fall into the sun. Martha looked up at the Doctor, whose eyes seemed miles away. He sniffed and rubbed his nose.

"Good riddance." He said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. His eyes widened as he looked at Martha. "No offense intended."

"None taken." She said, one corner of her mouth turned upwards. "So, it's finished then, right?"

"Yup." The Doctor said. "Just have to make some repairs, and we're off."

"Speaking of repairs," She said, following him, "You still haven't let me examine those gashes."

"Yeah..." Said the Doctor, reaching for his glasses. "Can't it wait?"

Martha rolled her eyes.

He put his glasses on and began to examine the damaged console. One large plate on the console was covered in deep scratches, as if the clone had been attempting to pry it open. He took his sonic out and began to repair the superficial damage, while assessing the set of controls lying next to it. They controlled the dimensional size of the ship, allowing the Doctor to modify the shape and appearance of the interior of the TARDIS at will. They had been badly damaged. Placing the sonic on the console, he let his hand linger on the burnt out chips and frayed wiring.

"Why would she destroy those?" He murmured aloud.

"Destroy what?" Martha asked, who seemed to materialize over his shoulder.

"The dimensional modulator." The Doctor said, reading the complete lack of understanding in her eyes. "It makes the ship whatever size I want it. It can compress rooms until they're needed, or create whole new structures instantly."

"You mean there's **more** on this ship?" Martha asked, eyes wide.

The Doctor didn't answer. He was busy with the sonic, attempting to fix the primary controls.

"Arrrrg!" Yelped the Doctor as the console burst into sparks. He jumped back, holding his hand and scowling at the console. Then, from above, came a great groaning, as if the ship were splitting in two. They both looked up to see the ceiling being to shred, tear, and stretch, until the hight of the room had been increased at least by another 100 feet. A set of stairs tore themselves out of the wall and led upwards.

"Oh of all the rooms..." The Doctor muttered, hand grabbing his face.

"You see, it's - " He began, before noticing Martha was half way up the stairs. "Oi!" He hollered, giving chase.

Martha stood at the top of the stairs, attempting to make sense of what she saw. There were burnt scraps of cloth hanging from half-melted hangars and richly carved wooden boxes that had been splintered and charred.

"No no no no no!" The Doctor shouted as he rounded the top of the stairs. He fingered bits of tattered cloth, and scanned the wreckage. Looking... seeking...

And found. The Doctor rushed to a large black metal box, inlayed with silver crescents and gold writing. He put his finger to the lock, said a short prayer to anyone who cared to listen in his head, and opened the box. Martha came up, and peered over him.

Inside on top lay a worn scarf. Very worn, Martha thought. Tan with stripes of color, it seemed to her to be the most normal thing she'd seen the Doctor keep. He had a corner of it in his hand, and was digging though the box with the other.

"So..." She began. "This is your closet."

"It's not a closet!" He replied testily, still digging. "It's just a place I like to keep my clothes."

"You? Mister Two Suit?" She laughed.

"Better off you didn't know me before. Used to wear the same jacket every day. Speaking of which..." He trailed off as he fished out a battered leather jacket. "Here it is."

Martha stifled a giggle. "You'd be swimming in that thing! No way it's yours."

"It was!" The Doctor protested. "I just... lost a little weight, that's all."

He carefully placed the jacket and scarf back in the box, and sealed it.

"But now we've come to the very end of the mystery, Martha."

"What'd ya mean?" She asked.

"Remember the Amehans?"

Martha gasped.

"I think," The Doctor said, laughing, "They got my castoffs."


End file.
